


The Baddest (Boy)

by Zaeli_Echo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, I am shameless, I'm not asamed, I'm not sorry, If I can make myself do it, Lance is in too deep, M/M, Past/previous rape/non-con, Song-inspired, This is probably gonna spiral out of control, and people, eventually, hopefully, just putting that out there, keith is bad at feelings, keith is oblivious, kind of, please, read the tags Y'all, shameless fluff, songfic?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaeli_Echo/pseuds/Zaeli_Echo
Summary: Shamelessly based on Pentatonix's "The Baddest Girl" - Please listen to it I love it so much and it fits this fic well enough.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1R8GqbX2sY---Keith Akira Kogane is Altaea University's unwitting heartthrob and its accidental heartbreaker. What happens when self-proclaimed hotshot (dork) Lance Marea McClain is challenged to win the kickboxer's affection?Shit hits the fan.Some goodSome badSome (lots) of angst(I GOTTA MAKE MYSELF DO IT AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)





	The Baddest (Boy)

    “Okay Lance, if you’re such a hotshot, then you should be able to get Kogane to open up to you. This is your test, and it may be your tape.”

Those words, as it turns out, would be the downfall of Lance Marea McClain. Of course, Pidge probably knew that when they uttered them, the gremlin. Hunk had winced, but there’s no way to get Lance Marea McClain to back down from such a direct challenge. Shiro and Allura had both choked. Shiro on his hummus and cucumbers, and Allura on air.

Now, you should know that Lance is not a player. The boy was such a sensitive soul underneath his ladies-man façade that he couldn’t stand to see anybody in any kind of pain, emotional or otherwise. He was usually the first person to offer a complete stranger chocolate and a couch to sleep on if they need it.

Thus, he was  _ una idiota _ for letting Pidge challenge him like that.

Lance went home from dance that day a little nervous and a little more hungry than usual. Thank God Hunk was a good cook.

\---

Halfway across campus, Keith Akira Kogane - unwitting hearthrob and accidental heartbreaker - was completely unaware - as always - of the fact that heads turned to follow him as he trotted through the halls on his way to the dance and self-defense studios. Nor was he even thinking as he strode into the changing rooms already stripping his shirt off. It wasn’t uncommon to see alumni walking around in crop tops or shirtless, so he didn’t give the sudden hush a second thought as he stepped behind a curtain and changed into his tight exercise pants and sneakers. He heard conversation rise and fade as a group left the dance studio. He heard some exasperated tones that sounded suspiciously like his skunkhead friend/practically brother, but he paid it no mind and tossed his bag in his locker, locking it deftly and padding into a now-empty studio, still completely unaware of the bubble of attention that seemed to follow him.

    “Allura! Can I borrow a speaker for a bit?” He called to his basically-brother’s basically-girlfriend, watching her silver head pop into the room and flash him a smile before setting a large black speaker on the ground and a coil of aux-cord next to it before picking up the doorstop and letting the sound-proof door slam shut. Not that it made a difference to Keith. He was constantly surrounded by quiet, and it made him pretty happy. No senseless chatter to distract him. He plugged in his phone and let the music distract him, swirling and tumbling in elegant motions that doubled as both dance sequences and martial arts moves. It wasn’t exactly typical, but it was his style, and he stayed in shape between it and kickboxing. He wasn’t aware of the crowd that had gathered behind the one-way glass to watch him as he paused the music and stood, uncapping his water bottle and taking a long swig before tying his hair up and going back to his exercises. He finished with his exercises sweaty and panting lightly, weaving through the crowd he hardly noticed on his way to the changing rooms, not paying half a thought to the path that cleared through the crowd as he walked out of the studios - duffel in hand and hair still in a low pony. He barely shivered as the cold air crashed against his bare arms.

Skunkhead - Shiro - greeted him as he passed the campus cafe, his coffee in one hand and Keith’s tea in the other. The latter took it with a grateful sigh and took a long swig.

    “How was training?” Shiro asked once Keith had swallowed.

Keith gave a noncommittal grunt.

    “It was fine. Uneventful, just like always. No power outages, no riots, no Galra assholes.” Keith referred to a rival kickboxing team - The Galra - who sometimes came to pester Keith about his training techniques. The only reason they knew was the coach’s son was at one time very close to Keith.

Inexplicably, Shiro’s shoulders relaxed as if a suspicion of something he had hoped wasn’t the case had been proven wrong.

    “Good. How’s the tea?” Skunkhead had very obviously relaxed, although Keith was baffled as to why. He decided to bring it up once they got home, and fell into the familiar rhythm. 

Keith forgot to ask. Mainly because he had to sprint back to him and Shiro’s flat while the much larger kickboxer distracted the Galra. Those dicks. Keith’d kick their asses so hard they would taste the bottoms of his feet. 

Shiro trotted into the flat five minutes after Keith got there, looking fresh and unruffled.

    “Have you oiled the new ink yet?” He asked, setting his duffel next to the door.

Keith let his head drop back against the futon with a groan.

    “I’ll take that as a no. I know it’s difficult to reach all of it without twisting. I’ll help.” He padded towards the bathroom, gesturing for Keith to follow.

He did so and sat down on the toilet with his back turned so that Shiro could reach the back of his shoulder. A scarlet swirl of fire formed a roaring lioness with eyes that were inked with glow-in-the-dark pigment so that they glowed yellow when the light was dim. Shiro had convinced him to get one after the former had gotten a proud-looking lion that faded down his spine and across his shoulders into a stippled nebula of black and purple with the same glowing gold eyes.

He sighed as Shiro spread the oily ointment over the tattoo, the raw skin practically singing in relief after all of the sweat. He let Shiro fuss over him for another minute before standing and going back to the living room, where his laptop sat open and booted, email open to his eccentric art professor’s most recent assignment. It wasn’t bad this time, thankfully. Coran must have decided to choose an easy task for over Christmas break. He pulled his sketchpad from its leather case and sat down with a huff on the couch, fully prepared to finish it quickly and have no obligations for the rest of the week.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!   
> Hang with me, y'all. I'm not very good at writing angst... :/  
> Comments are my drug.  
> Enable the Author.


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